Home
by StarCrossdSparrow
Summary: LoVe of the introspective, conversational variety. Bitty, fluffy, angsty oneshot. S1 spoilers.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in _Mars_-land. Or _Star Wars_. Or _Risky Business_. Come to think on it... I'm pretty poor :(  
Spoilers: Up to 1.06 "Return of the Kane"  
A/N: This is for any of you who loved "One Thousand and Eighty-Eight Miles" and just had to know about the house/home obsession Veronica had. I had this little ficlet on the shelf a long time before I even wrote "OTaEEM" and the time just felt ripe to post it now, especially in light of 3.4 "Charlie Don't Surf." Enjoy!  
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She traced the long scars that ran from his shoulders down to the small of his back. He laid, passive and quiet for once on the bed, just enjoying the play of her fingers on his flesh, trying to not contemplate just what she saw back there.

His chin was in his hands and the only thing in his direct line of vision was the nightstand and the slender black cordless, its tiny red light indicating a connecting between the handset and its cradle. It was somehow comforting... homey, even. Even if it was the hotel's nightstand, phone, and bed.

Logan spoke then, so softly that his girlfriend dipped her head close over his back to hear him, letting her blonde tendrils stroke where her fingers left off. "You know, I think there are two kinds of people in the world."

"Oh," Veronica ventured. "What sort of people would those be?"

He rolled onto his back to look up at her. His breath sucked back into his chest just then at the sight of her. Her hair caught the light in a way that made it resembled spun gold. Eye makeup was smudged slightly at the corners of her eyes, making the bright blues pop out all innocence and sex appeal at once. Her shell pink lips, still swollen from earlier, were at ease. They wore neither a smile nor a frown, just... readiness. And, her shoulders were bare as she had wrapped only her torso in the white sheet. Neptune's own Venus.

"People? Types?" she prompted. Her lips quirked into a grin and she was Veronica once more. Logan returned her smile.

"Yes. There's the kind of people who can call anywhere home and there's the kind that only think of home as the place where their name is on the deed and all of their belongings are inside."

"Which am I?"

"The former. Like me," he replied, puling her down to him. She rested he head below his chin.

There was a long pause. Logan considered reaching behind him to shut out the light, but was reluctant to shift the girl in his arms. Even after all the time they'd spent together, he was still afraid she might walk out the door and never come back. He didn't want to risk it, so he just closed his eyes.

"What was it like?" came her voice. It was quieter than normal, and certainly less investigatory. It was almost as if she'd said it hoping he wouldn't hear the question. But he'd been expecting it all along. He shifted and she propped herself up on her elbow to study him.

He let go a shaky laugh. "Well, it really sucked for about forty-five minutes, give or take the location and weapon of choice. But, then, there was always a nice, shiny AmEx in it for me if I didn't report it to the sheriff."

"Logan, you don't have to... I didn't want to..." she started. She fell silent when he shook his head and closed his eyes once more.

"Full disclosure?" he asked. He opened his eyes at Veronica's silence. "It wasn't as bad as you're probably imagining it."

She made to reassure him or offer an inane platitude, and that was so not Veronica. So he headed her off at the pass, "I'm serious. It _was_ awful. Physically terrifying, emotionally damaging. But, it's over. And I can't let it run my life."

She looked down at the mussed sheets between them. He sat and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Veronica started, "Logan, please don't..."

He turned and smiled at her. Even he could tell the smile didn't reach his eyes. But, he wasn't mad at her. He told her as much. "I just need something to drink." At her alarmed expression, he smiled genuinely amused at her concern. "Only water. Really. You want?"

She shook her head and laid back against the pillows.

"Don't move then, okay? I'll be right back," he ordered, mock-sternly.

She smiled thinly. He walked toward the kitchenette and stooped to the mini-fridge.

He opened it and just stared at the meager contents. He just stayed in that position, his chin almost to his knees, but not yet sitting.

Her heard her more than saw her. When he finally looked up, she was still wrapped in the sheet, her eyes questioning. "You moved," he noted quietly.

"Still looking?" she asked.

"I thought if I willed it, the water would come to my hand. Damned Jedi mind tricks," he quipped softly.

"Want to come home with me? My dad's out of town. And, I think we have some Jedi-infused water in our fridge. And leftover chicken pot pie. And _Risky Business_."

"Home?" he asked, tasting the word on his tongue and nodding. "Sounds good."

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**Love it? Hate it? Review it!  
Believe me, I take criticism well... so, even if you're just angry that you spent five minutes of your life reading this... five minutes that you'll never get back, mind you... drop me a line to rant ;)**


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